Fall’s Prophet

[Intro] You painted my shadow, called it divine, Chasing echoes I left in passing time. Told you I’m nothing, but you gave me a shrine— Tell me, what’s a god to do with a mortal mind? Told you I was busy—guess you took it as fate, Now you’re wrapping my silence in a velvet crate. Claimed I was a king, but I just took a seat, Watched you kneel to a ghost, guess defeat's bittersweet. So yeah—thanks for findin' meaning in a spark I left behind, Must be lonely prayin’ to a death I didn’t mind. [Chapter 1] I left a note inside the static—doubt they’ll find it. Buried under tones of gold and old assignments. Scripted out my silence—guess they liked it. Funny how a whisper makes ‘em feel enlightened. — Wrote my name in dust—took ‘em years to mispronounce ("how tragic") Every word I said, they frame like scripture, Even though I slurred half—crooked fixture. Didn’t die heroic, just a glitch in the feed, But they built a shrine from the lies they need. And I play along. Like I meant it all. Like I saw the fall and tried to warn them all. But I blinked—and they framed it as fate. Told ‘em “don’t wait”—they etched it in slate. Left my voice in the wires, in rusted gates, Now it plays on repeat while the signal degrades. [Chapter 2] They said I vanished— but I’ve been here, just... Watching over you ("sarcastic") Not gone—just slipped the grid, kept my silence cinematic. Not tragic. Just... refracted. Kept my orbit off your axis. Memory in the wax— but I bled out in the ad-libs. [Chapter 3] Lines got legs, so I let 'em, walk through death as the bells rung Flicker in the lens—yeah, I kept that fun, ghost on the dash with a half-hung sun. Talk like I never left, step like a second breath, read what you etched in the ash, then laugh— you don’t write clean when you’re scared of the past. [Chapter 4] See, I blinked and the scene turned scripture. Missed ya. Not really. It’s richer watchin' the frame as it hiccups. Hollow crown, no scepter. Just gesture. They call it lore when the glitch was measured. [Chapter 5] I didn’t fall—I pivoted. Didn’t die—I riveted. Built a myth outta misfit sentences and now you sift through the drift like penance is owed to me. Hush—I don’t haunt. I oversee. [Chapter 6] All your wars for the throne? Cute. I made one blink and they called it truth. Hung one phrase in a vapor loop— now it’s rambling, through, throats in a miss aligned , (hummm~) Silly what distance can do. [Chapter 7] You called it prophecy— but I just liked the phrasing. Clipped wings in the margin, and you called that raising. Every pause I left? You filled with thunder. Guess I never knew silence could pull gods under [Chapter 8] You framed my absence like an endless riddle, But you never saw the cracks, never noticed the middle. You built your temple on the fragile and brittle, Now I’m watching it crumble, ain’t it a little... Ironic? You thought you could harness my sight, But it slipped through your fingers, no matter how high. You tried to touch the stars, but your hands are dry, And now you’re questioning why— why did I let you try? [Chapter 9] So that’s the legacy? Funny. I just left the mic on. Your reverence Built cathedrals Turned a shrug into meaning. You kept waiting for the message. Didn’t occur to you — I was the glitch. And the silence was your script. And you kept pressing play.